


Across the Bridge

by WotanAnubis



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: An Attempt at H'aanit-Speech, Cynicism, Fluff, Gen, Idealism, Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 18:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WotanAnubis/pseuds/WotanAnubis
Summary: In which Primrose and H'aanit do not understand one another.





	Across the Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I made an effort to sort of emulate the way H'aanit talks, but, uh, I'm not particularly confident I succeeded.

The Frostlands were proving to live up to their name, much to Primose's chagrin. She was huddled up in a little ball in her tent, her traveling blankets drawn tightly around her. It still wasn't enough. She was shaking with cold and it took all of her effort to keep her teeth from chattering.

Her dancer's veils simply were not up to the task of protecting her from the climate. And the hatred burning in her heart was, sadly, too metaphorical to be of much use.

A shadow moved across the flimsy canvas wall as someone outside got between the campfire and Primrose's tent, momentarily plunging her into utter darkness.

"Pritthee, Primose, may'st enter?" the shadow asked.

Primose filled her lungs with stinging cold to have enough breath to reply. "Come on in H'aanit."

The tent flap opened, letting in a flurry of wind and snow as well as H'aanit. The woodland huntress held some kind of large, shapeless bundle under her right arm. She also seemed entirely unbothered by the cold, even though her breath was misting in the air.

"Forgiven me for the late disturbance," H'aanit said, thrusting the bundle towards Primose. "But thou'rt cold. I hope this'n help thee."

Primose raised a shivering hand, slowly, reluctant to let her arm slip out of her blanket. When she touched the offered bundle, she knew instantly what it was. Fur, and a lot of it. She pressed her hand against it, felt the warm fur between her fingers. It was comforting, but only for a moment.

Primose pulled her hand back. "What do you want in return?" she asked.

H'aanit stared at her as though she'd suddenly started spouting incomprehensible gibberish.

"'tis thine," she said at length. "Shoulden thou wantsten it."

A huge pile of fur to sleep under and keep her warm in this blasted cold? Of course she wanted it. But nothing she wanted had ever come without a cost.

"Perhaps," Primose said. "Depending on the price."

Againt there was this moment where it seemed H'aanit was struggling with some unfamiliar concept.

"Mayhap thou'st mistaken me for Tressa?" she said with a smile. "Ah, but nay. She'd offeren thee these freely just the same. Mayhap thou'st mistaken me for Therion?"

Primrose sighed. "I'm not in the mood for games."

"Just so," said H'aanit. "Though t'would seem thou'rt playen one I do not kenn."

"So you're just giving all this to me?" Primrose said. "Just like that? No strings attached?"

"None," said H'aanit. She moved her hand across the pelts and Primrose couldn't help but remember how warm the fur had felt against her hand. "Lessen thou thinkst this fur as string."

"Why?" Primrose demanded. "We've only just met, we hardly know one another. We only travel together for convenience. Why go to this trouble?"

"'tis no trouble at all," H'aanit said. "And if'n it were, I'd go to _because_ we art companionen on the road. What kind of person wouldst I be if I didn't looken after mine?"

"I am. Not. Yours," Primrose snapped. The words were out of her mouth before she had time to think. She sighed. "Sorry. I know what you meant. It was merely an unfortunate choice of words that made me react so."

"Thou hast suffered," H'aanit said. "I kenn not how to healen such wounds. But I kenn how to keep thee warm."

H'aanit started spreading the fur bundle out across Primrose's meager bed. Part of her wanted to object, insisted that were some catch here. That these seemingly benign favours would be called in at some future date and the repayment would be steep.

But the pelts were warm. Primrose stopped shuddering, allowing her body to relax. Perhaps enough even to sleep. And perhaps... perhaps...

H'aanit was a simple woodland hunter. A member of some backward, isolated clan. She had no idea how the world worked, what kind of people were in it. Perhaps it really was just a gift. Perhaps she really didn't expect anything in return.

Perhaps.

"There," H'aanit declared quietly, as she spread the last of the furs across Primrose. "Better?"

Primrose nodded silently, without looking at H'aanit.

"I'll leave thee to sleep," H'aanit said. "But do seeken me outte on the morrow."

_Ah._ There it was. The catch, just as expected. She knew it'd been coming. Strange, though. It tasted more bitter, this time.

"I'll have fashioned thee some fur clothes 'gainst the cold," H'aanit continued. "We've slayen so many beasts on our travels, I haven enough pelts to make clothes for all our bande. But thou'rt most in need, so I'll make thee some first."

Oh.

"Thank you," Primrose said, her voice muffled by the furs drawn up over her chin as well as her own shame. "That'd be kind of you."

"Kind?" H'aanit said, surprised. "I kennen not how. But thank thee."

And with that, H'aanit left the tent. This time, Primrose barely noticed the wind blowing in. She huddled underneath the furs, letting them warm her body until she could barely stand the heat.

She wasn't completely sure what had just happened. But she was starting to think H'aanit just may have done her a kindness simply because she could and that was somehow enough for her. It was hard to believe there could be such people in the world.

An image of Yusufa floated through her mind. Primrose rapidly blinked away her tears.

Poor H'aanit. The world would not be kind to her. She should return to that village of hers and never leave again. It was the only way of a woman like her could remain safe. But Primrose knew already H'aanit wouldn't budge from her quest. So it was up to her. She'd have to teach H'aanit the ways of the world. It would tarnish her, of course, but that's just the way it was. Nobody got out of this world unscathed. Not even H'aanit.

But...

Maybe...

Primrose thought she felt something stir somewhere inside of her. Some part she'd thought long dead. Some much younger Primrose, who'd still known things like happiness and joy.

Maybe H'aanit could teach her a few things as well.


End file.
